“Tables turning is what we do best, isn’t it?” She asked with a shrug. His response came in wordier French, rather than the short sentences she was more comfortable with. Always giving her lessons. Advancing her in the language. She sighed and thought about her own response. “Même avec le… mauvais français? “
When he touched her without an ‘excuse,’ Leah threw her head back and laughed. “You only need an excuse when it’s in public and other people are around. Otherwise, you know you’re free to touch whenever and whatever you like. I could also say that you did have an excuse all those other times.”
Hugging her arms around him, her expression softened when he made an implied remark about his own lack of popularity. “No more favors than I do for myself.” It was her turn to brush his hair back from his face. “I don’t think people like us were made to be close to a lot of people. Which just means we should be closer with each other.” Dependent. That word popped into her head again. “The only people I really need in my life are my family.”
Marriage. The question sent a jolt of icy anxiety rushing through her. Leah’s thoughts went to her parent’s marriage, how rocky it had been sometimes when they’d been around one another. How she’d often gotten the impression that her mother felt trapped. That was the whole basis for Leah’s aversion to the topic of marriage.
Staving off the panic the made her want to give him an outright, firm no, Leah thought best how to answer his question in a rational, calm way. That was a challenge in itself.
“Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be talking about that?” She asked slowly. “We’ve only been together since April….” Was it too soon to have moved in with him? Too soon to have encouraged Marigold to call him papa? Maybe she’d rushed those things.